Son
by WatWriting
Summary: A re-edited version of the gift for kazuyagoddamnmishima from tumblr, for safekeeping mostly. Oneshot. "It was a mistake – he'd grown too attached, unconsciously favored the boy amongst the other trainees from the moment he was brought into his care. And he slipped. The word escaped his lips, and before he could have caught himself Takeda heard it. Son."


It was a mistake – he'd grown too attached, unconsciously favored the boy amongst the other trainees from the moment he was brought into his care. And he slipped. The word escaped his lips, and before he could have caught himself Takeda heard it.

Son.

He called the boy "son". He would've said that it was nothing, that he called each of his trainees by that but… even he could tell how much of a ridiculous lie that was. As if Hanzo Hashashi was the sort of man to go around calling people "son". He hoped that perhaps Tekeda thought nothing of it, brushed it off as he should've and yet he could see the sanguine gleam in his charge's eyes, the nearly hidden smile that graced his features.

And it stung, knowing that he really did see Takeda as his son, because it felt like he was doing nothing but stealing him from Kenshi.

He never agreed with lying to the boy, but it wasn't his choice. Kenshi's fears had a probability of becoming true, but it was almost insulting that Kenshi insinuated that no one would notice the boy's absence and find him. Kenshi claimed it was because Takeda could run off on a quest for revenge before he was ready, if not now then later for certain. It felt like the Elder Gods were mocking him, leaving him in charge of a child that could grow into a thirst for vengeance - but he could see the logic in it. He, Hanzo Hashashi, managed to smother Scorpion and control his constant burning for vengeance. Who was to say Takeda was hopeless if he knew the truth?

But... controlling it didn't make it go away. It was still there and would always be there, for his vengeance burned from the murder and disgrace of his family and clan, committed by the Lin Kuei. No matter how great of a clan his own will grow to, it will never be the same, for the lives once lost can never be reclaimed without terrible prices. There were families on their grounds, children that weren't even capable of protecting themselves… Amongst those was Kana, his dear wife, and Jubei, barely 6 months old.

He would never be able to let go of Hell's fire, for it consumed him long ago.

But with the Clan and Takeda he could start to slowly live for himself again, think for himself. And thinking lead to longing, missing what he once had and… contentment. While the pain did not subside, he learned to live with it and distracted himself with leadership and training.

When Scorpion was dormant and he had time to himself, Hanzo addressed his feelings by meditating – one of many things Kenshi taught him to do _better_. He could meditate before, but it was only to hide himself from his feelings, to focus on the pain and wrath that burned within him so that his flames burned stronger in Kombat.

Now he did it to keep in control of himself. And as he meditated, trying to get used to feelings that did not burn at him from the inside, many times his mind wandered off to how prideful he felt watching his students – his survivors of war – evolve and get better, how calmly his heart pulsed as he walked past their barracks at night and how glad he was to have Takeda.

And then his contentment quickly turned sour, his mind reminding him that Takeda was not his; Scorpion whispering to him from time to time, saying that he was replacing his own child with someone else's. And the most painful thing was that he believed the spectre was right - but he could tell Scorpion had taken a liking to the boy as well – Takeda was resilient, hardworking but still lighthearted after what he had been through, a contrast to Hanzo himself. (Admittedly, he wasn't lighthearted to begin with.)

But what won Scorpion over was his bravery, for the child dared confronting Scorpion on the rare occasion he gets hold over Hanzo – while he might not kill allies, being beaten half to death was practically a custom in the Netherrealm, and had in fact stalled Scorpion enough for the Hanzo's advisers to reach them. It nearly cost him his arm, and did leave him with a scorch mark on his back.

Scorpion lived not only on revenge, but wrath as well, so he didn't hold back. But he was surprised with how good Takeda got in such a short time, and he decided to be fair to the child as once he realized he would have to kill the child to move, Scorpion just started toying with him. He was young, and still inexperienced outside of training exercises, but the founding for greatness was there. He would be a great challenge one day, and his flames burned eager to fight him then.

It was hard for the wraith not to think of the child as part their family the longer he actually spent time observing Takeda, being a part of Hanzo.

Yet there was a backside to it. Scorpion got jealous and angry, cursing Kenshi for simply abandoning his child with barely any explanation, only for him to one day reappear and take THEIR child away, as if they were a mere babysitter. Even a blind man such as himself should be able to tell that Scorpion and the Shirai Ryu were all the boy had. And then it happened.

Kenshi came to visit the boy on his 9th birthday, the first time in a year, but Scorpion got over protective. He forced his way above Hanzo's own conscience and spoke through him, warning the swordsman of the way his child resented him, spoke ill of him. That it was best he waited some more time before appearing to Takeda.

And what annoyed Hanzo the most was that Kenshi didn't fight him, didn't seem to notice the change in presence. He questioned if Kenshi truly did think he would say something like that, or if it was his own fear of rejection that kept the man from even ATTEMPTING to meet with his son. But even if he wanted to punch some sense into the telepath, Hanzo could not. He had only a vague idea what the swordsman was up to, and trying to find the man would just leave him empty handed and irritated.

Or at least, that's what he told himself. He felt nauseated on the inside, a burning at the back of his throat whenever Takeda nearly hissed at the thought of his father, and perhaps it was guilt – for he knew he probably ruined their relationship.

He just wanted to _keep_ everything he had now – he felt content after years of hatred, of senseless bloodshed in the name of revenge, of servitude! The guilt plagued him whenever he was alone, and he knew he was right to feel it. He had no right to do this, to be this selfish, to take away a man's son.

But he just wanted to feel happy.


End file.
